


Seduction

by DameRuth



Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Ten can be a selfish and manipulative bastard as much as I love him, This was my take on him really being a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: The Doctor wants Martha -- and he'll do whatever it takes to get her.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2008.01.02.]
Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805668
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> The Dark!Doc take (very different from my earlier "Choices," which is the Bright!Doc version of things). Inspired by a conversation with wmr and others over on LJ, about how aware Ten really was of his effect on Martha.
> 
> * * *

The Doctor didn’t start out intending to seduce Martha Jones — it just happened along the way. When he met her and they went to the Moon together, she was quick and clever and brave — which made him respect her. She also still had her natural sense of wonder intact (an unusual thing for a young woman with as much formal education as she’d received) — which made him like her.  
  
Then came the kiss. He’d given a firm disclaimer ahead of time without telling her his intentions, because humans could be odd about even the most practical things and he didn’t have time to argue. Instead, he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth to shake loose as many epithelial cells as possible, swishing saliva around to get them in good suspension . . . and then he made sure Martha received a liberal dose of his DNA-laced saliva, to mix with her own. That genetic cocktail was guaranteed to confuse the rudimentary scanners the Judoon used, at least for a little while. For good measure, he rubbed the pads of his fingers along her face, depositing sweat and more epithelial cells.  
  
He knew was taking an exceptional liberty with her person (at least given her cultural background), and he fully expected her to slap (or punch) the daylights out of him . . . but instead she _melted_.  
  
As he turned and ran, most of his multifaceted brain was focused on his immediate plans, but a few layers of thought considered Martha’s surprising response. All through the rest of the day’s events, he was turning it this way and that in his mind, under the surface.  
  
Martha Jones possessed a weakness — she found his current body attractive. Humans did, generally. This wasn’t new information; both Rose and Cassandra had thought so, back at the get-go, and when two such dissimilar individuals reached the same conclusion, he was more inclined to consider it relatively accurate.  
  
So. That led to . . . _interesting_ possibilities.  
  
The Doctor understood sex, and seduction. Hard to be over nine hundred years old without picking up a few things along the way. He knew the triggers, the gestures, the dance. It simply didn’t interest him much. He didn’t _need_ it, and besides, sex was easy. Sex was everywhere.  
  
Friendship, though, was hard . . . and _that_ was what he craved: another mind to interact with. Another voice to drown out the ones that lived in his memory and haunted him in moments of silence and inactivity. He needed new eyes next to him, to see and wonder over things long since gone old and stale to his own perception. He needed someone to _believe_ in him, to convince him that each new day and new world was worth the effort.  
  
Martha, on the other hand, was young, and human and desired very different things. Simple things, which would make her easy to manipulate.  
  
The Doctor hadn’t lied when he told the Absorbaloff that he wasn’t nice. He was old and cold and lonely and wise and, in some ways, entirely ruthless.  
  
Once the hypothesis was generated, he went to test it. Martha wasn’t hard to find. He gave her a dose of inviting body language, a lazy hint of come-hither . . . and she came hither, without reservations. After that, it was an easy balancing act, running hot and cold by turns to keep her interested and engaged. A tight suit balanced by a verbal “back off!” warning; a night in bed chilled down by a reference to a past Companion; a thousand such moments, all of which served to bind her to him, his fellow-traveler. And she was everything he could have wanted or dreamed of.  
  
His friend.  
  
Whenever he saw her waver, it was easy to rekindle her fascination with a loosened tie and open collar. His oral fixation served him in good stead — a fifteen-minute session with a lollipop was not only very pleasant for him, it kept Martha’s attention riveted. A dark-eyed glance in her direction from under lowered lashes, a soft whisper in her ear, a hug, a grin, a wink . . . so very simple. All he had to do was promise her sex without actually providing it, and she was seduced into being what he craved.  
  
Francine Jones was entirely right to slap him, though not for the reasons she had in mind. He was indeed using her daughter, but in ways too subtle — alien, even — for a human mother to comprehend. He did give her (grudging) mental points for her intuition, however.  
  
Eventually Martha would figure it out, get wise, and move on. He knew that perfectly well. But in the meantime, the dance was his to lead . . . as was Martha. His good friend, his dear friend, his loyal friend.  
  
Oh, no. Not nice, him.  
  
But _foxy_.  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=18100>


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